on Bye Street to the Homend where kids still skulk in stilts, too bored to grope and eating hands by stalls of drizzle. Scrim, more bloody melting tea under a scowl of weightless breasts,the Milk Bar’s ghost where you met Rena.

the rain and crash through bracken, sponge with paws like hooves that cleave the doom. Watch this dog explode in droplets- a small silver
spring at a fairy-tale ball. Bear out of starlight,our doglet- the best goodest boy of them all.